Ghosts
by the lola
Summary: Hermione is engaged to Ron, but Draco isn't quite ready to let that wedding go ahead. 'Grey eyes scan her frame, blinking slowly and deliberately… stretching out the emptiness, like always – like ghosts do. "I know you better than you know yourself."'


She casts her eyes around the room, accidentally stepping on her on-again-off-again boyfriend turned fiancé's toes, again.

He curses under his breath, so she turns that perfectly painted smile on him and watches him melt. This isn't her – it's never been her. But then again, she hasn't been herself for a long time.

Gulping, she shakes her head just slightly so that her curls fall properly again. Feeling the man's grip on her shoulders tighten, she looks at him and hopes that her eyes appear warm enough to make him feel comfortable.

But the hurt in his icy blue eyes can't be overshadowed anymore, just like the hurt in her eyes is becoming increasingly difficult to cover. He clears his throat, the awkwardness dancing around them and the tension hanging heavy in the air. The music is loud but the surrounding people are fools if they do not notice the silent screams.

Her glance turns to the marble floor as she turns again and again in the same spot, feeling people's eyes burn through her as they stare at the brightest witch of their age and the war hero. There's a reason this doesn't feel good, there's a reason she hates the stares, there's a reason they aren't in love anymore.

This time, he steps on her toes. She doesn't curse nor does she flinch, but the fact that the only evidence it's still them in their shells is their awkward dancing… well, it makes tears sting at her eyes.

If they were the same people, they wouldn't be here. They wouldn't be putting on a show for the crowds; they would be at home and not caring about all of this. But no, because the cracks are forming holes and they would rather be scrutinized by the entire wizarding population than have to scrutinize each other.

The soft music comes to an end; she drops her hands and mutters something about going to the ladies room. Walking across the vast hall, the only thing she feels are the burning gazes upon her. If she were still her (this is her test, that she always fails), then she would ignore them and continue on her way. Sliding a dainty hand into her hair and ruffling it, she pulls her lips into her perfectly practiced smile and watches as eyes go wide and men grow hot. What is this? Where is _she_? Why does no one miss her? Why does no one wonder what happened?

She can't have been that great after all, she decides.

Or maybe, this is who she was all along.

So far tonight, there's one ghost of her past that hasn't found her – she hopes it's not here and she hopes it will never find her (although really, she knows it's always there). There's a little nagging, a gnawing at the back of her mind where the memories are not quite repressed. And at night, they come alive.

It seems today is not her lucky day – although, she smiles that cynical smile – the closest thing to a real smile she owns, she has not met a lucky day in years. The ghost is here and she feels its heaviness on her heart before she even turns round.

Knowing this can't be avoided, not forever, she turns around and faces it… just like the old her would. Or maybe, just like the her-when-she's-with-him would. Her face is hard as stone, because no one can hurt her if they can't read her.

The silence between them reverberates through the empty hallway, but she knows it won't be empty for long - people are always looking to find a chip in her squeaky clean reputation. Knowing the ghost will shadow her; she pushes the heavy oak double doors to the left of them open, and mutters a locking spell as soon as they are inside and alone.

There is a silent language spoken as cinnamon eyes lock on grey. The cracks don't slowly form with this man, they turn into gaping holes in milliseconds and her façade falls quicker than she can hold it up.

His soft drawl floats across the space between them and into her ears, _beautiful_.

She doesn't grace him with a reply, not yet.

"…but not you," He continues on.

Clenching her jaw in a defiant way, a slight rush of strength runs through her veins – this version of her has a fake strength, a fake self-assurance. "How would you know what is me and what is not?"

Grey eyes scan her frame, blinking slowly and deliberately… stretching out the emptiness, like always – like ghosts do. "I know you better than you know yourself."

She swallows and falls backwards onto a chair as her knees are seconds away from buckling. This version of herself… it's built for ghosts of her past but not this one, no version of her can deal with this ghost. He's engrained into her soul, and that's the worst kind – the kind that doesn't disappear, the kind that you have to live with… the kind that's sewn into your skin, that lives in your veins. "Why are you here?" Her voice doesn't shake, and she experiences fleeting moment of proudness from this.

"Why are you doing this with _him?_ That's the better question…" He says with in a hard voice, his face still solid and strong. A silence hangs in the air as he scrutinizes her – scrutinizes her like everyone else but with different eyes, kinder eyes and knowing eyes… eyes that understand. "…you can do better."

The dark side of her laughs bitterly, and she pulls her lips into that cynical smile. "Better as in you, Draco? I think we both know that happiness doesn't exist between us… you don't let that happen."

"Oh, and happiness exists between you and Weasley? We don't have happiness, but we have strength, and it's a strength we don't possess without each other." The face of marble finally falters, but the flinch that flickered briefly is gone and covered up as quickly as it appeared.

Her painted lips press together, as if they never want to let the words escape – wanting to hide like they always do, to stay redundant at the bottom of her soul. But old her and new her and all the in between versions mix together and they push the abandoned words out. "You know it isn't happiness, but that isn't really the problem. I don't _feel_ happiness, not anymore. I'm not me. This," She gestures to herself with her hands, "Is not who you want, and you are not who I want. You never have been." And then the light side of her draws in a sharp breath, and confusion mixes with disgust at the lie that just fell from her poisoned lips.

Then, he takes a calculated and careful step closer to her, invading her personal space. He bends down, his face hovering in front of hers. "Tell me that's a lie."

She forces her head to look away from him, for them to not have eye contact again, so no memories can pierce her heart. "No."

And then the face of stone crumples as realisation hits that this could be his last opportunity to get her back. "Hermione, you don't mean that."

Suddenly she stands up, strength filling her again. By this point, she's exhausted emotionally and physically and she doesn't know what she'll be like after she leaves this room. "This isn't fair! Why do you get to push me aside, break my heart, move on and be happy, leave me to my inner turmoil and then come _back_? I am _broken_ Draco! Because of the war and what I've lost to it, yes… but mostly because of you! How can you expect me to come running back into your arms when we both know what it will be?"

Clenching his jaw, he frowns. "Because I've realised. There's nothing that makes me happy, there's no one that balances me out, there's no one that makes me strong but you."

The heart she thought was dead has come back to life and it's pumping so strongly she feels as if it might burst out of her chest. She was always afraid of this – of him, of what he could do to her. He makes her abandon common sense in a second and all for a secret relationship because he's _ashamed _of her. "Do you love me?"

That pregnant silence hangs heavy in the air between them as their eyes lock again and the ghost says everything that needs to be said.

"That's all I needed to know." Her voices shakes now, and not because she's weak – she's been through enough to know that she isn't but because there's a harrowing pain that comes with loving someone who will never love you. In fact, she realizes, her whole body is shaking.

"Hermione-"He starts, but she cuts him off with a bruising kiss. Tongues mingle and fight for dominance, hands lace into hair and skin becomes flushed. Icy hands push the thin girl against the long table, and shake against her dress as they push it up her thin legs. Trembling, dainty hands reach up and push the icy hands away.

"I won't ever feel again because of you. I won't ever let it happen and I'll never love anyone like I love you." The new version of her doesn't like tears, won't accept them and pushes them back at whatever cost – they show weakness and she is not weak. But the old version of her would cry, she would sob and allow herself to feel loss. But right now, she isn't either of those people because neither of them were made for this, and there's nothing she can do but wait for this silence to end.

The cracks that were ever so slowly forming in his marble expression suddenly turn into gaping holes because he knows her and he knows when she's serious – he's losing her when all he has to do is say three words (which he feels) to stop her from returning to the party – her party… her engagement party. His icy hands reach forward and grab her around her waist, and even though it's a thinner waist, in completely different clothes, it's still her somewhere and he can find her. "I- I… I do, I do love you, Hermione." And then let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding, because it wasn't really that hard to say. "I love you."

In that moment she realizes that this is why ghosts are ghosts and why they should never be revisited. She realizes that she should have walked away moments ago and then her heart wouldn't be ripped apart but bursting at the same time, she wouldn't be questioning her engagement for the fiftieth time… "Draco-"

"No, I do. I love you. Please… don't do this. Don't pretend to be this person because this," He gestures to her tight curls, the heavy makeup, the extravagant red dress and the obviously expensive heels, "Is not you - it's a person you're hiding in. Come with me."

"Come with you where? To your various hotel rooms and places you can hide me in? I'm not coming anywhere with you unless you walk out that door with me and tell everyone what we're doing and where we're going." All the versions of her that have existed to this date sew themselves together for this one last push.

Suddenly, saying those three words is more complicated than he could ever imagine because everything is in perspective and he's reminded that their relationship was never fun and it was never pretty. It was raw and it was passion, they helped each other mask their hurt, yet in reality, they were stuck in a hopeless place. By this point, the silence isn't heavy because there are no real expectations now, and things are never truly tense with them. But it's still silent, while the broken jigsaw quietly pieces itself back together.

"I shouldn't have expected you to agree," She suddenly says in a flurry of words, smoothing over her dress and running her fingers through her sculpted curls, "I'll go."

She gets to the doors and for a split second he really thinks he'll let her go for good – maybe she can be happy one day with the other man. But in the same second that he grabs her wrist he realizes that he couldn't do that, he's too needy and too selfish. "No, we're walking out there together."

Her eyes light up then – she feels it and he sees it, and it's the first time in years. The fractures of everything slide into place and although it's not perfect now and never will be, it's better than anything either of them could ask for. His hand slides round her waist just as it always used to, and she walks out there with her head held high – it's a new version of her, but a better one and someone that she likes. The ghost of her past becomes a person, the person that she loves a symbol of hope.

* * *

**A/N- **I've had a weird sort of writers block recently - I can write, but not really anything I'm particularly proud of. This though, I'm actually really happy with how this turned out (although it has taken me a good few hours of solid writing and editing and rewriting). I wrote this for the **Secret Relationship Challenge**. Anyway... pretty please could you review? I'd love to know what you guys thought.


End file.
